


The Consolation of Isolation

by squarepanda



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demons, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-02 02:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squarepanda/pseuds/squarepanda
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive has grown up and is slurring his hurtful world with whatever he can - forgetting there is someone always watching, always wanting.





	The Consolation of Isolation

A tiny bell chimed as the door, heavier than most doors, was pushed open. It rang again as the door was shut, the chiming not loud enough to turn any heads besides the barkeep who took notice of the newcomer.   
He gave a flat nod and resumed his futile attempt of drying up a mug with the greasy corner of an apron attached to his waist.   
Ciel Phantomhive was instantly struck by the humid air, considering a moment if he should remove the long woolen coat from his shoulders but decided the odds of being recognized without it was far greater than his need to be comfortable. He turned his head to do a brief inspection of his surroundings.   
More crowded than anticipated, even at this hour.   
The bar was old and had existed through a couple of generations, but despite the well-renowned facility, it was run down and in need of new flooring. Several disputes had probably taken place, covering the floors with bloodstains, beer spillage and other things Ciel didn’t particularly liked to imagine. The few windows that faced the street was beautifully built though, out of stained colored glass. A few wall torches reflected neatly in them. A few seating arrangements, all of differently designed chairs and tables, were strewn across the space around the bar area, most of them occupied by the patrons. A slender staircase in the back led upstairs – probably to the living quarters of the owners. Behind the bar was a heavyset arrangement of shelves that lined different types of glasses and bottles of unknown liquor. A narrow corridor probably led to a small kitchen that could dish up any kind of nutrient with a side serving of upset stomach.  
It was about the only bar in the vicinity that kept open during the late hours, probably the majority of the clientele here were hard workers whose only comfort was coming here for cheap lager once they were finally off duty.  
Hard workers they were. Every other man in here had large stains of oil slathered on their otherwise worn down clothes, their hair unkempt, hats holed and eyes lined with red weariness. They were quietly sipping their alcohol except for a handful that were in the middle of a heated game of dice or cards at a corner table.   
Two men in a discussion at the bar simultaneously paused to turn their attention towards Ciel as he took to a seat opposite of them.   
The barkeep covered their view by stepping in front of the so-far unrecognized Earl, a large fist curled at his hip impatiently. “What’s in it for you?”  
“What?” Ciel lifted his gaze to look at the man. As he knew he was going into such a public place, he had removed the usual eyepatch from his right eye but had made sure his long grayish locks were covering the eye instead.   
“What do you want?”  
Ciel wasn’t particularly fond of drinking. Since he had grown into his early twenties, he had increased his consumption of alcohol little by little, mostly at social events of course, having the mandatory glasses of wine at dinners and champagne for celebratory times.   
But it was his first time at a bar. Not here to find someone to talk to on official business, not here to find the next scumbag to justify.   
He was here, because he wanted to be here.   
“I’ll just have a lager,” he said, trying to sound as if it was the tenth time that day he had ordered a beer.   
The barkeep grunted a confirmation of his order and dutifully poured a large glass, setting it in front of him a little harder than Ciel considered polite. The barkeep turned away from him to serve the loud game in the corner.   
Ciel masked his disgust as he looked at the lager in front of him. It had a light odor of dirt and watered down piss – probably tasted like it too. He watched the white foam at the top for a moment then leaned forward to take a hesitant sip, only his lips touching the drink.   
Disgusting.   
He folded his arms across the bar counter, carefully nudging the drink away from him. The coat was old anyway; it didn’t matter if the grime from the dirty table top got into the otherwise expensive fabrics.   
It would Sebastian’s headache to clean anyway. Not his.   
Sebastian. 

Ciel closed his eyes slowly as memories flooded his mind, voices in his head racing out of nowhere to collide heavily into his consciousness.   
He had sent him away. He was well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t be long term. Sebastian would always be back. That was the agreement; that was in their contract. Even if his temper got the better of him and he would scream at Sebastian to leave him alone, the demon would comply with a smile only to return as soon as it was convenient to do so.   
But this time it seemed different. Something was off.   
Perhaps it was the fact that Ciel Phantomhive had grown from being the young master, through his adolescence and now stood almost as tall as Sebastian, more confident and more at peace with his fate. He was no longer a child. He could no longer let Sebastian act on his behalf as much as he wanted to, without the world around them scrutinizing the way he was treating his staff.   
That’s all Sebastian was to him, after all, according to the eyes of the world. He was staff. He was nothing but a butler. And had to act as such, towards a young, adult master. It was odd not to fend for himself. And nothing took to Ciel’s heart more than humiliation.   
He had sent him away. He was escorting Elizabeth Midford to France. In a desperate attempt to postpone the marriage for the umpteenth time, Sebastian had agreed to travel with her, across the canal, to a new established summer residence in the beautiful vineyards, a couple of miles south of Paris. He would help them set up the mansion and train the local staff in proper etiquette.   
Elizabeth was thrilled, expecting her betrothed to come along on a romantic getaway. He had used a new Funtomhive factory expansion as an excuse, ignoring the heart wrenching disappointment painted so obviously in her eyes while he lied to her. It was Sebastian’s finest duty to keep her occupied with her new residence instead.   
As per usual, Sebastian had complied with a smug smile, well aware of his struggles with the young Lady of Midford. He had asked no questions, had no intention of digging at Ciel’s motives. And for some reason, he was for once happy to leave Ciel to his own doings, satisfied that he could take care of himself.   
For years Sebastian had been in charge of his caretaking. From getting dressed, to afternoon teas, to brushing his hair before bedtime. Perhaps it was a natural separation of duties, since Ciel had matured and started making his own decisions besides the brand of tea he preferred. After all, Sebastian had watched him grow and learn how to fight battles against anything from unruly churchgoers to undead creatures, host flamboyant parties to satisfy the social etiquettes.   
The butler didn’t complain about his choice of clothing, didn’t interfere with his interests or scheduled meetings, Funtomhive related, Queen related or not.   
He was just there. Beside him. Through it all. Silently lingering. 

It was unsettling him.   
He had received a letter from Elizabeth, that they had safely arrived and she was busy barking orders to have the front yard fixed as apparently she was not too much into wine and preferred a boastful garden of flowers rather than fruit. No words about Sebastian. No words from Sebastian.   
Good riddance, he lied to himself while leaning forward again to take another unwanted sip from the lager. He felt the liquid burn in his throat. He had a lump in his throat. Perhaps he wasn’t competent enough to take care of himself in Sebastian’s absence, not wearing enough clothes to keep out the chill evening air. He really didn’t feel like coming down with a cold.   
He tried clearing his throat to rid himself of the lump, but all it did was attract the attention of the two men in the bar.  
He nodded politely to them then immediately dipped his chin towards the counter to let bangles of grey hair cover his face.   
He was a well known face in London and usually recognized by most, wanting to strike up conversation at the odd chance that he would dish out some wealth on them. Or offer them a job at a factory. Of course only when he occasionally ventured this part of town, which wasn’t very frequent.   
But tonight he had gone for a lonely stroll to this very pub, wanting to comfort himself with mingling with the unknown, to be unknown, for a couple of hours.   
He felt cold for a moment and reached to adjust the wool coat around him, securing his warmth. He had probably lost some weight in the three weeks without Sebastian to cook up adequate meals for him. The coat felt large on him, like a child wearing his father’s clothing in costume play.   
He closed his eyes as a memory of running around the dining hall wearing his father’s new French and beautiful azure tailored coat, laughing as he almost tripped in the long sleeves.   
He felt sick to his stomach. Was it the alcohol? Or the germs ridden around the place he was in? Was he really coming down with a cold?   
Perhaps it was time to call Sebastian home, then. Elizabeth could fend for herself, if need be. Or he could go to them. She would dote upon him regardless, but being sick was a chance for her to demonstrate her motherly skills and how much she truly cared for his wellbeing. If Sebastian would let her. He imagined Sebastian’s smug face while Elizabeth argued taking his temperature.   
Enough with the humiliation.   
That was their last exchange before he left for France with her.   
He remembered being angry with the butler, for allowing a dinner guest to rant out on him with the latest gossip, the journalist had conjured for the national news in an attempt to get bigger sales. It was Sebastian’s duty to secure the dining company was officially invited, formally, to discuss business and not disguise themselves to get a new scoop.   
Sebastian had not attempted to defend himself but simply smiled softly while assisting the young earl into bed even though it wasn’t too late in the evening, following the fiasco a business dinner.  
It annoyed him. At times he felt Sebastian still treated him like a little child. But what else was the demon to do? What exactly was it that Ciel wanted him to do?   
Show he cared, maybe. Understand that he was upset with him? Even after being scolded for letting in unwanted guests, for allowing public humiliation once again, the demon had done nothing but carefully put away his outfit for the evening and dared ask if he wanted something to drink before bedtime, his usual and embarrassing cup of steamed milk with a dash of honey.  
He didn’t particularly like the idea of Sebastian going away to France without any obstinate action.   
A sharp pain behind his sternum interrupted his line of thoughts and he allowed himself to grunt with annoyance. He was too occupied by fighting away the anxiety of coming down with something, to notice that the noisy game in the corner had ended as the four men had abandoned the game and were lined up right behind him in the bar.   
One of them gave the young lord a hard nudge to the shoulder. “Hey, you.”  
“Give us your pocket watch, we know you got one.” Another said while a third one sneered excitedly.   
Ciel’s brows furrowed as he lifted his chin to slowly turn on the bar stool on which he was sitting, facing the four low lives.   
“You can’t have it,” He said, sizing each of them up as Sebastian had taught him to do. Always calculate your enemies to determine if you have a chance of winning.   
He received another shove by the same first, crudely shaving and dark skinned man. “Then we’re just going to take it.”  
Two of them immediately dived in to grab each of his arms, forcing him back against the edge of the bar counter to blot his midsection which received a hard punch from the dark skinned man.   
The air left his lungs immediately, Ciel gasping for air as his stomach muscles tightened to protect his organs from further punching. Pain immediately flooded him.   
As he attempted to lean forward to shield himself, the third man started rummaging his pockets, successful in retrieving a golden pocket watch and whatever cash he had brought with him.   
He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t wearing his usual display of jewelry and he hadn’t brought a lot of money to this part of town. He wasn’t anticipating robbery or assault, but you could never be sure who you would meet. Especially going to this bar.   
“Hey!” the barkeep had noticed the debacle and was shouting in his raspy voice at them. “Not in here. Take it outside.”  
Ciel felt a knot tie in his stomach. Could be the consequences of receiving a punch but it was more likely the doom of receiving a beating from a random bunch of thugs.   
Despite having grown taller, much taller than ever anticipated, he was low on muscle mass as he was a business man. He sat behind a desk all day and did not sport keen interest in boxing. His long figure was easily hoisted off the bar chair and dragged out of the pub.   
Ciel noticed it had started raining. Cool drops of water hit his face as he was dragged into the street and then immediately shoved into the alley just behind it. The air in the alley was stale and smelled of sewage. It was dark as no street light could reach it, being just a narrow corridor between two buildings. Garbage lined the ground. The air was thick with humidity in the otherwise warm evening. It was the days between Spring passing into Summer, still too cold in evenings for no outerwear.   
A fifth member of thugs had joined them. He was much smaller than the other men, probably much younger too. A junior. He grinned at Ciel, approaching him while flexing a small knife between his fingers.   
“Pay up or die,” he smirked.   
Ciel looked between his newfound enemies, taking a step back only to almost trip over an abandoned selection of garbage. It smelled of decomposing food.   
Junior leapt forward, knife thrust forward and ready to pierce Ciel who barely evaded by pressing himself sideways into the wall. It was a distraction, a poor stab attempt to buy the others time to surround him.   
His world went dark as he was punched repeatedly in numerous places on his body, his knees caving in after a well placed kick in his kidneys and groin. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side as junior was successful in landing a stab with the small knife.   
The blood seeping from his side and into the woolen coat felt like a warm stain in the chilled evening rain. It was all he could focus on while the thugs were searching and ridding him of whatever wealth they imagined they could gain from him. They took his coat, his watch and coins. Even his suspenders and boots. Perhaps the silvery buckles promised them a few extra coins if they sold or traded them at the market.   
Ciel hadn’t spoken a word of protest as they had ganged up on him in the alley. He watched them flee the alley once he had nothing left to offer but his life, which they seemed disinterested in. His cheek was pressed against the wet soil as he listened to the voices waver off the further away they got from him.   
He was alone in the alley.   
With a pained groan he very slowly pulled himself up into a sit, leaning back against the moist and cool wall of the building. He was shaking. A mix of pain and anxiety was causing him to shiver. His lips quivered as he lifted a hand to feel the stab wound to his side. Fresh, warm blood steamed into his hand as he pressed it against him.   
Perhaps he was going to die. Basic anatomy knowledge was not enough for him to decide if the wound was deep enough to have cut into important organs. But it hurt and blood was seeping out of him too quick for him to consider safe.   
He weakly attempted to stand but decided against it as every joint in his body screamed with pain as he moved. He fell back down into a sit, his breathing now in ragged turns. The temperature had dropped since he had arrived at the pub. He could see his own breath in the air, coming in heavy puffs by now as calm left him and anxiety took over.   
He felt something warm run down his face. Raising a hand to wipe it away, he realized he had lost the last sense of dignity since coming out that night. A mixture of tears and fresh blood stained his hand and face. They had also managed to split open his head at some point, though he had no recollection of being hit in the back of his head.   
He closed his eyes and sank the lump still present in his throat, the pressure intensifying at his sternum as he felt utter defeat, sinking back against the wall.   
“Sebastian,” he muttered quietly, his voice more sad than desperate. “I need you.”  
The door to the pub was opened with an angry jerk, the bell chiming a loud welcome to the person entering the room. There was no sign of assault in the bar, every man just sticking to his own business with a greasy lager in hand. A loud game of dice was about to start in the corner, one of the men waging a gold watch with glee.   
A single beer stood abandoned in the bar, demonstrating a guest had urgently left without finishing it.   
The barkeep turned to face the newcomer, slapping a heavily stained cloth over his shoulder.   
“What do you want?” He muttered with professional disinterest.   
Sebastian fixated his red eyes on him, unappreciative. “Where is he?”   
“Who?”  
“The young man,” He kept his eyes on the barkeep while pointing in the direction of the abandoned beer.   
The barkeep turned his head and shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “He left. Didn’t even pay for his drink,” He scowled as he realized his loss of business and immediately went forward to grab the seemingly untouched beer.   
His hand had barely touched the glass before it was pinned to the bar counter, a fork lodged into the skin and bone and attaching it firmly to the wooden table top.   
The barkeep screamed out in pain, everyone’s attention turning towards the bar to watch as Sebastian released his grip on the fork, pressing closer yet to the barkeep.   
“I hate repeating myself. Where is he?”  
“They took him outside!” The barkeep cried out helplessly, trying to remove the fork from his tortured hand.   
“Who?” Sebastian turned on his right heel to look back at the small audience of bar attendees. His eyes glistened as he recognized the pocket watch lying on the table among the few coins added to the dice wager. His dark frame seemed to expand slightly as he left the barkeep to approach the corner and the five men sprawled around the gaming table.   
“Where did you get that?” He asked, seemingly not interested in a viable answer. He didn’t wait for a response while reaching out to take the watch from the table, pocketing it immediately. Junior stood up in protest, the knife coming into sight right away.   
“Hey man, you can’t just take that. You gotta play it to win it.” He laughed almost manically, obviously still high on his alley victory.   
His words echoed in the eerily quiet pub. The barkeep was weeping quietly at his spoiled hand at the bar, while everyone else was quietly watching the disaster unfolding. The evening rain had intensified, pounding heavily against the thick and beautifully colored windows.   
Before anyone could move, Sebastian crossed the space between them and grabbed junior’s knife arm. The boy was only about a third of Sebastian’s height, so Sebastian yanked the kid off the floor and spun, hitting the edge of a table with the kid’s arm. His body kept traveling and Sebastian didn’t let go, so the arm folded around the impact joint. The sound of tendons in his elbow snapping was like hitting wet plywood with a hammer. The knife drifted to the floor from nerveless fingers, and Sebastian let go of the arm.   
There was a long second where the five thugs stared at the knife on the floor at Sebastian’s feet, and he stared back at them.  
“Who’s next?” he said, flexing his hands, his face in a sly grin.   
They came in a rush. Sebastian spread his arms and welcomed them like long-lost lovers.  
The alley ground was flooded with rain, gravel and blood mixing together in muddy puddles around the ground. Sebastian quickly stepped forward to reach his young master still against the alley wall.   
He knelt right in front of him, hands quickly assessing the obvious damages to the young earl’s body.   
Sebastian took a hold of Ciel’s hand, sliding his thin fingers up his wrist. The boy was still alive but bordering consciousness due to blood loss, pain and probably hypothermia. He didn’t know exactly how long he had been out here, stripped of warm clothing and in the pouring rain. The boy was soaked to the bones in rain and blood.   
Ciel obviously sensed a presence, forcing his eyes open to watch the dark figure in front of him. A flicker of recognition shone in his blue eye and the corner of his bruised lip tilted up in the tiniest of smiles.   
He would survive. Much to the demon’s annoyance, he thought, before his consciousness slipped again.  
When he woke again, he was lying among the silken sheets in his own master bedroom. The rain was still pouring heavily outside, hammering against the large window nearby. He was on his side, his arm stretched out in front of him. It had been wrapped in gauze, a few patches of blood seeped into it. His entire body felt heavy and worn, sinking deeply into the mattress.   
The fireplace had been lit. He couldn’t see it but he could smell it and hear the flames lick at the wood that sputtered cozily.  
He wasn’t alone. He felt someone pressing against him from behind, someone holding him close. His lips parted with the realization as Sebastian’s hand travelled up his outstretched arm, lacing their fingers together softly.   
“You should rest, young master.” Sebastian spoke calmly, close to his ear. The demon was curled up right against him on the bed, their bodies draped together under the silk sheets in an attempt to counter the hypothermia. He was only trying to keep his young master warm.  
“I might have a cold,” Ciel muttered in a response even he seemed weird. Almost beaten to death in an alley, weeks after seeing each other and this is all he had to say to him?   
He still felt the lump in his throat though, pressing tightly into the soft tissue and making it hard for him to swallow.   
Sebastian chuckled softly. “You’re not sick, you’re sad. Grieving.” His voice was soft, almost comforting.   
Ciel closed his eyes to avoid watching Sebastian’s fingers petting his.   
“The lump in your throat. The hollow space behind your sternum. The empty feeling in your stomach no matter how much beer you put there. That’s grief.”   
Ciel furrowed his brows in a soft frown before opening his eyes to look down himself. He wanted to, needed to, figure out how much clothes he was wearing. Being this close to Sebastian would prove embarrassing if the demon had stripped him of the soaked clothes.   
Despite being raised in close proximity to Sebastian, countless nude encounters during the course of time, as Ciel Phantomhive had grown older and puberty had come with the humility of body awareness and a sexual orientation, he had attempted to gain more privacy and as a result, refused to be seen naked near his very own butler.   
Circumstances would however prove that Sebastian had indeed stripped him of the torn clothes and dutifully nursed the bruises and tended the wounds Ciel had sustained during his unfortunate evening encounter.  
Shame washed over him, flushing his cheeks pink as he discovered his own nudity. He swallowed, the lump proving to be stubbornly in place still, perhaps even growing in size much to his dismay. 

“You’re not handling grief very well, young master.” The butler continued, breaking the silence Ciel’s flustered awareness caused. He felt the demon tense behind him, almost squeezing closer. Perhaps Sebastian sensed Ciel’s urgency to distance them.  
He wanted to move, to bring more than a silk sheet between himself and the demon to at least shield his private parts. As he shifted in an attempt to move, Sebastian countered by pulling himself up on all fours above him, a hand pressing into the pillow next to Ciel’s head while their fingers were still intertwined in the other hand.   
Ciel couldn’t do much but face Sebastian, looking up at him from his pinned position in bed. He was speechless. He felt cornered, defeated once more. The only comfort was the recognition of the fact that Sebastian was once more by his side and no longer in France.   
“All you had to do,” Sebastian continued, studying the earl’s lacking expression. “Was to call for me.”   
Sebastian shifted his weight, Ciel uncomfortably aware of how close their bodies were. He realized Sebastian had removed his tailcoat and only adorned a half-opened white shirt and pants.  
“I did,” Ciel said while making another attempt to swallow the lump that caused his voice to glitch. His eyes avoiding Sebastian’s and instead running down the length of the tall butler on top of him.   
Sebastian brought back his attention by leaning in close, pressing a soothing kiss to the corner of Ciel’s lips, marking the reddish bruise.   
Ciel’s closed his eyes with an almost relieved sigh at the affection he received from his butler.   
Sebastian paused momentarily as he inspected Ciel’s expression. “Perhaps you’re grieving over me?” He carefully asked, moving his hand from the pillow to trace the length of his finger over Ciel’s chin to prevent the boy from turning away as he had a habit of doing each time he got close and affectionate.   
Ciel’s lips parted softly but no words escaped them, only a soft whimper to match the whirlwind of sensations his body was suffering following the evening’s events.   
His mind was devastated and Sebastian knew.   
The demon pondered, the respect he had gained over the last decade for his young master keeping him from violating him without thought. The lack of protesting was however, taunting.   
Ciel wanted to raise his arms to embrace Sebastian but his body was unresponsive and weak from battle, so he only managed to squeeze Sebastian’s hand still holding his.   
Sebastian responded by brushing his thumb over Ciel’s bottom lip, pressing their lips together subsequently in a soft kiss that lasted a few seconds. “You need to stop me,” the demon muttered, their lips locking again in another soft kiss.   
Ciel lifted his chin as if to reply, but it only deepened the ongoing kiss, the young earl whimpering into it. He felt the lump in his throat diminish ever so slightly, a heavy rock lifting from his chest as he pressed against his demon, sensing the odd warmth evaporating from the slim, familiar figure.   
Sebastian had no intention of pulling back when the young master so willingly allowed intimacy. He complied to a deep kiss, squeezing the bandaged hand in his against the mattress. The boy smelled of dried blood and confusion mixed in with the sweet cologne he had so carefully picked for him a while ago. He slid his hand up Ciel’s cheek, his fingertips lightly caressing his temple before curling into tendrils of grayish hair, lifting it to reveal the right eye. He broke the kiss to look at Ciel, waiting for the boy to regain his senses and open his eyes and look at him in return.   
The demon felt a calmness in seeing their contract, so amply stained into the boy’s right eye. He smiled with satisfaction before feeling the boy beneath him grow slightly limp.   
With a hint of worry to his condition, Sebastian let go of his hair and studied the earl’s feverish eyes instead. “How do you feel?”   
“Better,” Ciel responded, his eyes falling to Sebastian’s lips. Had he really just kissed him? Willingly? Maybe he was getting sick, for real. A feverish state which rid him of all sense of morality.   
Sebastian sat back, releasing Ciel only to pull away the silk sheets and expose him to the cold of the room and the nudity which shamed him so.   
Ciel tilted his head to watch Sebastian as he traced his hands over his figure, the long digits carefully inspecting the bruises that seemed to cover the majority of his left side. He noticed the bloody gauze on the stab wound in his side, hissing as Sebastian’s hands reached it and nudged pain right back into his consciousness.   
The butler stood up to retrieve fresh bandages and water to clean the wound, returning shortly to being addressing it like an adamant nurse. Ciel watched him in silence, the awareness of his exposed body slipping his mind. He was busy looking at Sebastian’s lips, memorizing the softness of their touch and the comfort it gave him.   
The lump was back in his throat. He swallowed again, catching Sebastian’s attention while he was finishing the bandaging. He stood up, the bloody gauze in the bowl of water in his hand.   
“You should rest.”  
“Don’t go,” the words escaped Ciel faster than he could think and rectify. His blinked twice, surprised at his own words.   
Sebastian’s lips pursed into a thin line as he contemplated, absentmindedly putting the bowl down on the nearest table surface. He returned to the bed, testily pressing himself down next to the young lord.   
Ciel lifted a hand to the unbuttoned shirt and placed his palm flatly against Sebastian’s chest, sliding his it up against his skin until his fingers could curl into the butler’s dark locks. “Don’t ever leave me again,” Ciel spoke softly, his teeth gritting while his fingernails dug through Sebastian’s hair.   
Sebastian chuckled softly, raising a hand to the one by his neck. He petted his fingertips down Ciel’s arm to cup his cheek. “Yes my lord.”   
It was a bold move, Ciel thought, as Sebastian was aiming for another kiss. He struggled mentally, debating if he should turn him away or not. But the satisfaction he felt from the kiss justified it, so he closed his eyes and let Sebastian kiss him, the lump in his throat fading once more.   
He breathed in, feeling the ease with which he could breathe. His sternum was no longer locked in a tense grip of anxiety or grief.   
He felt the demon press closer, the silk sheet caressing his inner thigh as Sebastian’s knee was sliding against it. The butler was undoing his shirt further. He felt the fabric of it as it was opened and pooled on his stomach as Sebastian drew even closer.  
Anxiety was replaced by a new emotion. Something new he had only felt a handful of times throughout his adolescent life. It was a weird tense, almost burning sensation in his lower stomach. Remotely close to the fear he had felt while being attacked in the alley.   
He would allow it. He was drowsed in the taste of Sebastian’s lips as they continued to kiss on the bed, a newfound hunger for the comfort the demon’s intimacy somehow brought. His hands reluctantly assisted Sebastian in removing the shirt, discarding it to the side of the bed. He felt his hands curiously roam the surprisingly muscular butler figure hiding beneath the uniform. He was warm and soft to the touch, his hair as it caressed his skin carrying a rosy and soapy scent.   
It was intoxicating. And he wanted more.

Ciel struggled to keep his eyes open, overwhelmed with sudden onset of weariness. The fever felt like a heavy weight pressing against the front of his skull, his forehead so heavy it felt like his eyes were coming out of his sockets. His cheeks flushed red, a few droplets of sweat collecting at his temples and collarbone.  
He pressed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth in an attempt to keep a soft moan from escaping his lips, an immediate response to the demon’s zealous kisses on his neck. He could feel Sebastian struggle to hold back, the hands on his wrists tightening to a point it turned painful, his weight on top of him encumbering and the kisses becoming more eager.   
He was in pain. A lot of pain. He was certain something was oozing out of the wound on the side of his abdomen, perhaps from the pressure of having another person on top of him.   
Waves of pain slurred him full of nausea, which he tried to swallow away, shifting both knees towards himself in the air.   
“S-Sebastian,” he whispered, afraid to speak or he would need to throw up. There was no response from his butler, too occupied with the free pass on intimacy. He frowned softly, feeling slightly uneasy at his loss of control of the situation. He wanted to push him away but he had no strength left in his arms and Sebastian had a tight hold of both of his wrists, pressed hard against the headboard of the bed.  
He released a sharp breath of air as he felt the kisses turning aggressive, Sebastian’s teeth scraping over the thin skin of the nape of his neck. His eyes sprung open.   
“No! Let me go!” He struggled to escape the demon, both legs kicking in the air as much as he could.   
“Oh?” Sebastian lifted his head to look victoriously down at the young earl, multiple red marks splendidly covering parts of the boy’s torso and neck. He kept his hands on the wrists while pulling himself up to sit on his knees, straddling Ciel’s hips.   
Ciel kept his eyes open, straining to do so. He looked up at the dark figure in front of him, sizing him up with full realization. He remembered the contract. Who Sebastian was. His ultimate goal. And he would not have it. Even at his most vulnerable moment he would still reach out to Sebastian. Why? As the person closest to him, the one who understood him the most, and still he couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t just be playing for his end game.   
The reminder knocked Ciel’s consciousness into fear and guilt, blending perfectly with his sickness and weariness. It was too much.   
He dipped his chin in an attempt to hide the sadness. He let his heavy eyelids down, straining as much as possible to keep the tears from flowing but it was too late.   
He was full on crying, his shoulders shaking and sniffling intakes of air.   
Sebastian slowly released the wrists only to slide both hands of his hands down behind Ciel’s shoulders and under them, pulling him up, cradling him closely against his chest in a comforting embrace. He pressed his cheek to the top of his master’s head and let him cry in silence.  
The rain outside continued the following day before it slowly wound down to a quiet drizzle as the next morning came, painting everything in a depressing shade of dawn. The gravel had dispersed along the narrow paths through the gardens outside the Phantomhive manor. The roses in otherwise full bloom, a deep crimson color, had taken a soft beating from the heavy rain and drooped against the stonewalls.   
The sun remained hiding behind thick clouds, only occasionally able to seep a few rays through to remind everyone of the oncoming summer. The air would remain thick with humidity throughout the day.  
Inside the manor, everything was quiet except for shrill sound of metal scraping together as Sebastian whisked cream together in a bowl. The sound was resonating through the abandoned manor, only the butler and his master currently at the estate.   
A few wall torches had been lit, mostly out of habit, as the demon didn’t require neither the warmth nor the light they provided. The one just outside the kitchen entry flickered as some random gust of air had found its way through the hallway. It made Sebastian lift his attention from the whipped cream to the dancing flame.   
Nothing.   
He sighed, looking back at the cream as he whipped it just a little more. He turned to the perfectly rounded sponge cake sitting on the counter and began covering it with the whipped cream, adding a couple of fresh strawberries on the top. As a final addition, he added a dash of powdered cocoa.   
He looked his creation over, wondering if his young master would even be able to eat it. He had set out to make a lavish cake rather than try to force feed him something healthy and less tasty, as a means of cheering him up. However, Ciel had been in poor mental and physical condition for the past two days so perhaps this was the time to skip proper nutrition schemes and let the boy have his favorite food instead.   
He cut out a thick piece of the cake and prepared it on a tray, accompanied by a rich Ceylon tea selection and a tall glass of water.   
He carried the tray upstairs to the master’s bedroom, leaving the door behind him open to the hallway to let the air recycle within the room.   
Ciel Phantomhive was on the bed on his back, the sheets pooling just over his middle. He looked asleep, but his lips were parted by uneven breaths of air and his skin paler than usual and stained with droplets of sweat.   
Sebastian put the tray down on the nightstand and sat down on the bed next to Ciel. He reached for the napkin from the tray and used it to gently dab the sweat from his master’s face with his left hand, then placed his right hand on Ciel’s forehead. He was still running a high fever and it was worrisome. Either Ciel was tremendously good at maintaining his poor physical state as a response to what was going on in his troubled mind or he was still suffering from his wounds.   
He brushed his thumb over Ciel’s lips, a light smile forming on his own as he reminded himself of the taste he had had the other night. His thumb caressed the boy’s flushed cheek, incidentally brushing away a tear that ran its lonely course down Ciel’s face. A soft shudder made the boy stir on the bed and turn his head away and out of Sebastian’s grasp.  
Perhaps he was suffering a terrible nightmare. Sebastian frowned a little, discarding the napkin before jerking the sheets off the boy’s figure, his frown deepening, as the stab wound didn’t seem to be healing very well. The bleeding had almost stopped but had been replaced by a dark puss that made the edges of the wound swell with bruised colors. It was obviously infected despite the demon’s best efforts to clean it.   
There was no way he would bring the boy to even the best hospital in London The chances of him dying would only increase and he had no taste for decomposing cadavers.   
While lost in a cascade of solutions in his mind, the sudden sound of something heavy and metallic hitting the floor came from downstairs to snap him out of it.   
He stood and covered Ciel with the sheets before slipping out into the hallway to locate the direction of the sound, approaching the staircase.   
From his view, he spotted a handful of intruders. Locals from the countryside who perhaps had noticed the lack of staff around the manor would now risk their lives while attempting to steal some wealth.   
He remained hidden in the shadows, watching them discuss among themselves on how to split up to increase their chances of getting enough loot to make it worthwhile.   
One of them had spotted a lit wall torch and argued they should leave immediately. The promise of bags full of expensive candelabras, lavish sheets of silk and several silver forks won and the group began to split up.   
Sebastian decided to take them down one by one so he silently made his way down the staircase to stalk the first intruder towards the library, successfully knocking him out with an encyclopedia. He grabbed him by the ankle to drag him out into the front hall, leaving him to a comatose slumber in front of the door. It would serve as a nice warning sign to the others, if they should return here and see it before he could get to them.   
He found another intruder in the kitchen, preoccupied with tasting the remains of the whipped cream in the bowl on the counter. The man would have screamed if it wasn’t for Sebastian’s hand who quickly slid up to cover his mouth, his other hand pushing a knife into the intruder’s spine at a lethal angle.   
He let the body drop to the kitchen floor. He could always clean up later. The kitchen was easier to hose down than the hardwood floors of the other rooms around the manor.   
Following a third intruder to the dining hall, he watched from the doorway as the oblivious man was pre-occupied checking through drawers for the expensive silverware. Each drawer was slammed shut with disappointment, as he didn’t locate the treasures as easy as he had imagined.  
Sebastian drew in closer and snaked an arm around the man’s throat, squeezing until he would collapse from asphyxiation. The body had barely dropped to the ground when the butler caught sound from upstairs. A loud banging from silverware hitting the floor, immediately followed by Ciel’s voice.  
“Sebastian!”  
The intruders must have been successful in waking the boy from his sleep. Wonderful.  
He turned on his heel and quickly made it upstairs, making his way to the master bedroom. He placed a hand on the doorway and turned to go inside and inspect the situation.   
The tray with the untouched cake had been knocked off the nightstand and onto the floor, whipped cream piling neatly next to the bed. A broken tea cup was scattered next to it and a trail of fine and still warm Ceylon tea ran slowly towards Sebastian’s polished shoes across the floor.   
He lifted his gaze from the mess to see the young man who had previously requested to abort the mission, standing with an arm tightly around the young master’s neck. It seemed he had wrestled Ciel out of the bed as the boy was on his knees, still wrapped in the sheets.   
The barrel of a gun was pressed against Ciel’s temple, however shakily, as the man was nervous.   
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. The gun looked familiar. He turned his gaze to the bed, the large pillows moved out of their usual place. Ciel had despite his condition, reacted instinctively by reaching for his gun as soon as the intruder had attacked him on the bed. And had lost  
The butler stood as frozen for the moment near the door while he discussed the options silently with himself in his head, his eyes fixated on Ciel.   
Ciel still looked pale but at least awake. His entire body language signaled defeat. His wound was oozing into the silk sheets around him, probably sprung open from sudden movement. He had his head tilted to the side and away from the gun as much as the man would allow his head to move within his grasp.   
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot your master!” the man suddenly barked but Sebastian ignored him.   
“I mean it. Just. Just let me go and I won’t shoot him.” He continued while a thumb slowly but surely cocked the gun.   
Sebastian’s gaze locked with Ciel’s. The boy’s silence was unnerving. Ciel stared back at him, the depth of his blue eye resonating nothing but surrender. He was expecting the young master to bark an order at him to immediately take out the man but nothing came. He didn’t even look annoyed. Perhaps he would rather just take the bullet and be put out of his misery, Sebastian mused to himself before taking a single step forward with almost glowing red hues.  
The gun clicked, making the demon freeze in place immediately, blinking a couple of times out of sheer surprise and horror while he let out a sounding “No!” in objection. His voice echoed through the bedroom and through the rest of the manor, making any remaining intruders reconsider their options.   
Everything was silent except the rattling of the gun as the man’s quivering intensified. He clicked the gun a few more times but nothing happened.   
Ciel watched the demon’s reaction, the hint of a small grin curving the corner of his lips upwards.   
“Gun is empty, Sebastian.” He muttered in a calm and serenely collected voice. “I’m disappointed you would let me go like that.”  
Sebastian’s everything obviously relaxed. He shifted his gaze from the earl to the man behind him, raising a brow questioningly. “Shall I leave you to deal with this burglar by yourself then?”   
“No, he’s annoying. Take him out.”   
“Yes, my lord.”  
The young intruder was startled by the quiet conversation going on between the master of the manor and his butler, a sudden onset of panic making him respond viciously. Instead of attempting to shoot at Ciel, he lifted his gun wielding hand in order to smack the handle into the back of Ciel’s head and render him unconscious but the demon was at him before the gun handle could make an impact.   
Ciel was released the second Sebastian sprung at the intruder, crushing the man’s skull against the bedpost like the sound of stepping on eggshells.  
“Are there any left?” Ciel enquired, slowly pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed while pressing a hand to his wounded side.   
“No. The last one ran.” Sebastian looked at the blood flowing from the dead intruder’s head that mixed together with the tea on the floor. The room smelled odd and would require a thorough venting as well as scrubbed floors. He turned away from the dead man with disinterest and reached out to pry away Ciel’s hand to inspect the wound.   
“We need to get this fixed. Possibly have a professional look at it.”  
“Not you?” Ciel replied, unamused at the idea of leaving the manor.   
“Unfortunately it seems to insist on bleeding. It has become infected and is making you sick, young master.” Sebastian smiled comfortingly.   
“I’m not going to the hospital. You only go to hospitals if you’re dying.” He swatted at Sebastian’s hand by his side. Not getting a response from the butler, he softly frowned and looked up at Sebastian who was staring flatly at him. “I hate spoiled leftovers.”  
Ciel shoved at Sebastian with an annoyed groan. “Leave me alone.” It wasn’t a very forceful shove. The reality of Ciel’s weakened condition returned full force as soon as the adrenaline had faded. The same glossy look shrouded his eyes and his cheeks burned with fever.   
Sebastian barely moved at the shove, bending at the waist instead to slide an arm across the boy’s back and another under his knees to lift him from the bed in a princess carry, leaving the silk sheets by the bed.  
“I need to clean up this mess, young master. How about a nice warm bath?”   
Ciel struggled to keep his eyes open, his head automatically tilting towards the butler’s shoulder to rest while carried to the bathroom.   
“I suppose,” he muttered in a slurred voice, surrendering to the caretaking.   
Sebastian placed him on a convenient chair to rest. He rolled up his sleeves neatly then began preparing the large tub. He stole occasional glances to Ciel to make sure he remained in the chair and without harm. Once the tub was filled with lukewarm water, he relocated the suffering earl to the tub and lowered him gently into the water.   
“Does my young master requi-“, Sebastian began, already reaching for the wash cloth.  
“Go away, Sebastian.” Ciel snapped, turning his head away from him and resting his cheek against the cool edge of the tub. He sank a little deeper into the water, eyes drifting shut.  
“Yes, my lord.” Sebastian turned away from the tub, watching Ciel momentarily on his way out to get rid of the bodies and begin washing down the floors.


End file.
